Tael Doombolt
by Mr Platypus
Summary: Story of orcish commander. Reveiw it, even if its a flame.
1. Tael, Doombolt

Disclaimer: I don't own dwarves or elves or humans or orcs or trolls or grunts peons or warcraft 1, 2, or 3 or axes or demo squads. you get the point. I own Tael Doombolt, though.  
  
Tael Doombolt was stewing in anger and violence. HE thirsted for the blood of dwaves. The alliance of humans, however, didn't procure much dwarf meat. It was always 'their bombs bursted, destroying the bodies of the demo squad', or 'the body lies, unrecoverable, at the bottom of the sea' And axe throwers were so inaccurate, the explorer planes always exploded. Damnit.  
  
But, now, he had an answer. Many of his grunts and ogres and trolls would die. But it would be worth it. 'Sir, um.' 'Wadda wan', you damn lazy (orcish insult)' ' Your army has returned-' 'AT LAST!!!! DWARF!!!' No, um.' 'THEY FAILED!?!?!?!' 'well, not exact-' He was beheaded before he could finish. 'Guards! Eat this foul (another orcish insult) before he taints the air!'  
  
Tael Doombolt's double headed axes were not yet feared amongst the human ranks, as his army had killed all they saw, and all that saw them. He was, however, greatly feared amongst his own. To face him was to die, to defy was worse. Even the generals, and orcish tyrant feared him face to face. When he was there, they wouldn't contradict him. They would, however, send defiant messages with peons (who usually got eaten) When he came to these people again, they would fear his revenge for it. Now, as he walked down the line of his army, in a deep cold, with his army shivering, and not just because of the cold, he reveled. He could be and do whatever he wanted. The horde of the orcs was at his feet, at his service. His gait was slow, purposeful, angry. Sudenenly, he turned on his army and began slaying ogres, trolls, and orcs left and right. Havoc ensued, as it did every time. If they fought back, they would be killed. If they ran, it would be far worse. But standing still didn't do any good. The guard towers had no orders, but they had become used to this. They fired on any runners, but shot to disable. If the shooters killed a soldier, it was their head.  
  
Minutes later, bodies lying everywhere, a blood mist and blood soaked ground stood still for a moment in time. Tael stood alone, barely having broken a sweat. The occasional fresh axe mark spattered his body. Not much of his own blood had spilled, but blood was in the air, enveloping everything. Tael himself had little on him. Rivers of blood ran down scars on his jaw, flowing like a river from his mouth. Both edges of each heavy war axe were drenched, and his claws themselves had orc flesh and blood stuck under the nails. More than half had survived his wrath, but more would die. Any who had moved from their rank were now ordered to be killed. The encampent was filled with bodies. You could walk from one end of the field to the other without touching the ground, now. These slaughters never reached general attention, and soon his ranks would swell with offspring who wanted to be feared and great. Tael was looked up to by all orc youths.  
  
Just now, a messenger peon arrived. 'Tael Doombolt??' 'What!?!' 'You are ordered to make a second assault on the dwarven mountain at dawn.' 'I need reinforcements. Heavy casualties.' 'Yes, sir'  
  
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	2. The beggining of the Assault

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Groups of nine marched across the death plains of orc and human conflict. These forests and plains and mountains and rivers of no-mans- land filled the larger portion of orc-known territory in this new country. (Author's note: This is an alternate history. The orc clans forced the human alliance to retreat across oceans many times. This country has nothing to do with any other storyline) Now, finally, the orcish hordes would have a fortress in this Wesqi (pronounced wes-ki) land. The dwarven mountain. And a great gold and iron mine. Our 'hero' Tael Doombolt was to take this mountain.  
  
As his army, stretching miles on end, began to come within vision range of the mountain, Tael Doombolt wondered how the dwarves were going to defend it. They had no elven archers, and, against this, coming out was suicide. An easy victory. But is that what he should tell the Tyrant?? 'They had thousands of elven archers, and their griffin riders dodged our hurled axes!' Maybe. Tael would have to think it over.  
  
Slowly, slowly, the gargantuan army neared the mountain. Even by the time they were standing on the foot of the mountain, no sign had appeared that it was even inhabited. No windows. No doors. No shining lights. No waiting army. Maybe they had retreated out the back entrance?? But no, horribly aimed arrows began raining down on them. They had elven bows, just no elves.  
  
Tael screamed 'Search for an entrance!! Any entrance!!' 'GrrRRRRRRAAAAAAAARRRRHHHHGGGG!!' The orc's war scream rang out against the mountain, and they couldn't tell if the dwaves had returned it, or if it was an echo. Regardless, hundreds of orcs, trolls, ogres, and catapults charged up the mountain, looking for an entrance.  
  
When they had scaled far up, explosions began ringing out, all over the mountain. Tael began charging up the mountain himself, trying to discover the source of the army slaughtering explosions. Soon, he discovered hidden slots where arrows and barrols of gunpowder were flying down the mountain. He fended off barrols that still had a lot of fuse with his axes, bursting them open and covering the mountain in gunpowder, and dodging the short fuse ones, sometimes jumping out of explosions, as he slowly worked his way up the mountain. As he worked his way up, he called out to his troops 'FEND THEM OFF OR DODGE THEM!!! DO NOT RETREAT!!'  
  
As he reached another hidden slot, inspiration came. He looked in. There, peeking timidly out, was a succulent looking dwarf. Suddenly, it's eyes went wide, and it fled in fear. Tael Doombolt stood, cocked his arm back with his axe in hand, and swung with all his might. The window cracked enough to allow three orcs through at a time, with room. He was beginning to yell to rally his troops for the invasion, When something with similarities to a huge chunk of iron flew out. It landed on two feet. Tael made a quick inspection of it. Made and covered in thick plates of iron, and moving as only magically enchanted iron could, it was at least three times the size of Tael, who was large for an orc, that were a bit bigger than humans. It was built like a cross between elves and humans. In it's hands were single sided swords with blades as tall as the golem, and, from blade to back, as long as Tael's heel to knee. In a single swipe, it easily cut in half four grunts, a catapult, and three trolls. Bad news.  
  
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